Memories in Autumn
by Anti-Mattering
Summary: With the Pillar Men defeated, JoJo's worst enemy now becomes his own memories.


The sun peaked over the horizon of New York, an abnormally tall and very shirtless man standing outside to greet the morning. Assuming you weren't floating through outer space, the upscale apartment building's balcony was probably the best place there was to see a sunrise like this. He inhaled the crisp autumn air, filling his lungs past the capacity of a normal human many times over.

Sparks began to crackle around his upper body as he did so, still breathing in. He held it in, drawing in the power from the sun's rays as it continued its ascent into the sky above. Suddenly, he choked, letting out everything he'd had stored in an awkward series of puffs and half-coughs. With a sigh, he walked over to the railing, staring out at the city and all the people and cars passing by below.

You could say things had "quieted down" ever since JoJo and his family moved back to America, but things were never really quiet here. It was a stark contrast from the relatively peaceful setting of Air Supplena Island. Frankly, though, he preferred it that way. A livelier city meant more fun, but also more opportunities to distract himself from his thoughts.

It probably wasn't healthy, but he'd rather just not think about the losses they suffered during the battle with the Pillar Men. Everything over the course of those last days was such a whirling monsoon of emotion and danger that he barely had time to process what he'd been feeling, yet now that he was given ample time to do as he pleased, he simply resisted it.

He was certain that's what was screwing with his Hamon training, too. He'd been trying to keep at it ever since returning home, but whenever he'd start to breathe it felt like something was about to choke him. "Bastard," he cursed, chuckling a bit as a grin spread over his lips. "Not going to let me get better than you even when you're dead."

Despite his jokes, it probably was Caesar that held him back now. Whenever JoJo would attempt to use Hamon, an overwhelming sadness welled up from inside his heart. His breathing turned sloppy and his focus turned elsewhere, and it was starting to become obvious he'd begun to lose his edge. If Lisa Lisa ever found out she'd sure to be furious. Might even hit him in the head with another oar.

It had occurred to him recently that they never took a group photo together. Him, Lisa Lisa, Messina, Loggins, and Caesar. Something about that didn't sit right with him, like when someone intentionally goes out of their way to use the urinal right next to you despite there being plenty of open ones with no one else around. An uncomfortable, gross feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn't think of himself as exceptionally sentimental, but it still bothered him nonetheless.

Not many photos of Caesar still remained after all these years. Speedwagon said he'd contacted the four Zeppeli siblings not long after the end of the battle. He managed to get a picture of him from a few years ago and brought it back to America with him, eventually giving it to JoJo to keep in his home. Though he acted dismissively towards the gift, his true gratitude was understood by both of them.

The image of a smiling Caesar showing off his bubbles currently sat above the Joestar home's fireplace next to a few others. He tried not to look at it too often. Dwelling on the past would only make him depressed, and he couldn't really afford to fall into despair while starting a business. Who'd want to buy a house from a guy who looked like he hid a noose in it in case the sale fell through?

Now that he thought about it, it was a bit strange that he'd decided so spontaneously to start a real estate company. A year after saving the world and he immediately wanted to sell houses. Probably not the greatest plan with the war going on and all, but he didn't let such a small concern stop him in pursuing a dream. He couldn't really think of a concrete reason why he'd thought of doing that, but it's not like he couldn't afford to try. As much of an ass as it was to think this way, he did have plenty of Granny and Speedwagon's money to throw around into whatever ventures he felt like pursuing throughout life.

He had to scoff at himself. What the hell was he doing? He came out here to try and do some morning exercise and instead ended up ruminating over his life like some old man. What did he think he'd accomplish with all this nonsense, anyway?

Doing a few stretching and cracking his neck, he thought, "To hell with all this!" and headed back indoors. Hamon training just wasn't working out anymore, and thinking about missing Caesar or the absolutely bizarre turns in his life sure wasn't going to change that. He'd just push forward and keep doing what felt right. He wasn't about to start getting all sentimental out of the blue like that. He had actual responsibilities now for almost the first time in his life and couldn't afford to keep looking back. Just forward.

Though it probably wouldn't hurt to take more pictures from now on.

* * *

Decided to do a short thing about Joseph reminiscing about the past and failing to keep up with Hamon training. It's actually been on the backburner for a while now since I had so much trouble finding his voice. Still not a 100% on whether or not I did it justice, but I'm trying to do better about finishing what I start.

What originally inspired me to write this was all the theories on why Joseph could have sucked so bad at Hamon by Part III. The best ones I've heard always involved something to do with Caesar, so I went with that and threw in a little bit of justification on why the Crusaders decided to take a group photo in the middle of the desert (and maybe even some reasoning for why Hermit Purple works that way?). Probably not as deep or as angsty as people would hope going into it, but I wasn't really feeling all that. Rather just do something short, light, and a little bittersweet while looking ahead.

Either way, hope someone managed to get something out of this, even (especially) if it's a desire to write a better version of this that makes up for all my flaws. Might decide to revisit it some other time and do a little more with this concept, but for now I've got other stuff to work on. Thanks for reading. Always remember to breathe from your diaphragm.


End file.
